


Waking to a Whole New Reality

by Calacious



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Confusion, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Past Abuse, Waiting, change in tone, magical 'marriage', rambling thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander wakes to find himself in a reality that he isn't quite certain of, because, according to his brain, which could very well be addled, he's 'married' to Angel, and his father's going to kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> hc_bingo prompt: trapped between realities (in a manner of speaking)
> 
> Please forgive any errors that you believe this story might contain as I'm trying not to obsess with grammar.

Xander had never been more terrified of his father in his life. The man was livid. His face was turning purple with an effort, Xander assumed, to stay in control of the situation, which was quickly spiralling out of control.

He would have laughed, had he not been so afraid. And then there was the tiny matter in which Xander wasn’t exactly overly happy about the circumstances under which his father was nearly apoplectic, either. How could he be, what with his being kind of sort of somewhat married to Angel?

Come to think of it, Angel wasn’t overly happy about the situation either, though, the broody master vampire was standing beside him, scowling at Mr. Tony Harris who was advancing on the two of them rather rapidly.

“Uh, dad, I can...” Xander’s words were cut off by his father’s hands wrapping around his neck.

Xander would have been impressed by how quickly Angel had his own hands wrapped around Tony Harris’ neck, pinning the man up against the wall, except for the fact that the vampire was now in full-on vamp mode, and Tony’s eyes were bugging out of his head, and it wasn’t because of the rather muscular arm that was now pinning him into place. A muscular arm that, for some unfathomable reason, Xander found himself drawn to as though he was a moth and Angel’s perfectly sculpted arm was a flame.

“Xander?” Angel was giving him an odd look, and Xander blinked, and then shook his head to clear it.

“Uh...” _great repertoire tonight, Xan-man,_ he thought. _Am I drooling?????_

“Xaaaander...” someone was slapping his face, and it sounded like he was being summoned from far, far away.

He blinked, and darkness fled, and Xander found himself lying flat on his back in the middle of a cemetery, Angel and Willow - the voice calling to him - kneeling on either side of him.

“Wha...ha...p’n’?” Xander’s lips and tongue weren’t working in concert with each other, and was Angel actually looking like he was maybe kind of concerned about him?

“You were hit with a poisoned arrow, and you slammed your head against the trunk of a tree.” Giles was peering at Xander over the tops of his glasses.

“Huh?” Xander’s head was pounding far too hard for him to think straight, and he couldn’t stop staring at Angel, and thinking about the vampire’s massive arms - the muscles that lay hidden beneath the light blue shirt that he was wearing.

“Xander?” Angel’s voice was soft, concerned, and Xander wondered if he was still dreaming. He shot a look beyond Angel’s shoulder, wondering if Tony Harris was going to come gunning for him again, but, it was Buffy who stood beyond Angel. She was brushing her hair back from her face, and watching the area around them, as though expecting another attack.

“Are you alright?” Willow finished Angel’s half-asked question, and Xander wondered if he’d stepped right into the Twilight Zone. Willow being concerned about him was one thing, but finishing Angel’s questions? That was a bit much.

“Do you think you can stand if I help you up?” Angel asked, and Xander tried to think his way through the question, tried to understand what it was that Angel was really asking him.

His head hurt, and he was more than halfway convinced that he wasn’t thinking straight, and that none of what was happening was real. Maybe he and Angel were back in his kitchen, facing the wrath of Tony because they’d gotten vampire-human married, or mated, or whatever...which...was worse than whatever was happening here.

“I’ll take that as a, no,” Angel said with a soft sort of chuckle, and a shake of his head. Before Xander’s mouth and brain could work out an answer, he was being lifted in the air, as though he weighed nothing, Angel cradling him like a baby.

“I can walk,” Xander said, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up the back of his neck.

“Let Angel carry you,” Willow said.

“Yeah, Xander,” Buffy said, her face swimming into view. She touched Xander’s cheek, and gave him a sad sort of smile. “Let Angel carry you. C’mon, guys, let’s get out of here, before someone else decides to rain on our little parade.”

As far as speeches went, Xander felt that Buffy’s had fallen a little flat. It wasn’t nearly as pun-er-ific as it could have been, and, more than that, it was downright discombobulating, because why should he, of all people, let Angel carry him? And, exactly what, ‘parade,’ was being rained on?

“He’s shivering,” Angel said, with a voice that was way too worried, and, before Xander could open his mouth, he was being whisked away from the cemetery at vampire speed, the headstones nothing more than a steely gray blur as he flew past them.

Unable to do much of anything, Xander decided to settle back, let his head rest against Angel’s chest. It was devoid of a heartbeat, something which probably should have been alarming, or disconcerting, or...something, but it wasn’t.

If anything, it was comforting, and it felt familiar, like Xander was used to being carried around by Angel, except, well, Xander hated Angel - didn’t he? And, it wasn’t like he was some kind of male version of a damsel in distress. Not often enough to be used to the lack of heartbeat while being carted across town by a vampire who showed no sign of slowing down until he reached what Xander recognized as Angel’s home.

“You’re safe now,” Angel said, finally setting Xander down on his feet.

To his credit, he didn’t wobble, much. Angel was beside him, ready to catch him should he fall, even as he led Xander into his home. Again, Xander was struck with how familiar this was, how, at home, he felt.

“Xander, are you alright?” That question, those worried eyes, again.

“I’m fine,” Xander said, a little more gruffly than he meant to.

“Something’s wrong,” Angel said, and then, the vampire leaned in close, much too close for Xander’s comfort, except for the fact that Xander leaned in close to Angel as well, close enough for their lips to touch.

Xander’s heart fluttered in his chest, and his eyelids slipped shut when Angel’s mouth found his, their lips touching and sparking something deep inside of Xander that had him opening his mouth, himself, fully to Angel.

And then it all came back to him in a burst of memories- their accidental, yet irrevocable, bonding, courtesy of Drusilla and Spike and a wandering band of gypsies, a broken curse and a prophecy that had thwarted some kind of apocalypse, and Xander’s father going berserk, almost killing him because his son was a, ‘fag’, Giles and Buffy having to drag Angel away to keep the vampire from killing Tony, and bleeding him dry.

“Oh,” Xander said, stumbling, his knees buckling. Angel caught him up in his arms, for the second time that night, and, with a smile that could cause the sun to fall out of orbit, or something far more romantic than that, he carried Xander up to their room.


	2. Closing a Chapter in Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander visits the house he'd grown up calling a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a sentence prompt from a friend which is featured, in part, at the beginning of this 'chapter'. 
> 
> This 'chapter' has a different tone than the initial one.
> 
> I apologize beforehand if there are any grammatical errors in this story,but I lead a busy life and sometimes I don't have the time to be as thorough in checking over a story as I previously did. I'm happy with that situation, as to me, it's more important to create through writing rather than making sure every little comma is in place. I'll do the latter when someone is paying me to publish, but for now, my primary goal is to indulge myself as a writer and hopefully, as a bonus, entertain you as a reader.

He stood outside the house he used to call his home, hand poised ready to knock. The wind was bone-chillingly cold; it made a mockery of his inadequate clothing, and he knew then that he should have listened to Angel. Much as it pained him to admit it, the brooding vampire did know what he was talking about, from time-to-time.

“Southern California is experiencing record breaking, unusually cold temperatures,” Xander muttered beneath his breath, mocking the radio broadcaster he’d been listening to on the drive over to his parents’ place. The car was Angel’s, he’d borrowed it, with Angel’s permission.  

Xander blinked when he could actually _see_ his breath, misted before his face, in a puff of opaque whiteness. It disappeared almost as quickly as it had formed.

He was no longer welcome at home, if he’d ever really been welcome there in the first place. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the door – at the chipped paint that edged the rusted screen door, it used to be white once upon a time, well before he was born – trying to work up the nerve to knock.

It was the right thing to do. He told himself that, again, and again, even as he stood in front of the door, rooted to the spot, hands digging deeper into his threadbare jeans.

He’d told Angel that very same thing, multiple times, and in a multitude of ways – words had never been a weakness for him – ignoring the overly protective vampire’s insistence that he not do this alone. That, because they were, ‘married’ – that word still jarred him – Xander could always count on him to have his back, no matter what.

It was unnerving, thinking about Angel having his back, and Xander shivered, refusing to go down that particular path of muddled thinking, knowing that, if he did, he’d soon be mired in it. It was quicksand, thinking about Angel. Dwelling on the vampire always caused Xander to think about Angel’s killer looks, and breath-stealing kisses that brought Xander warmth which belied the perpetual coolness of Angel’s skin.

Vampires didn’t generate their own heat. That was knowledge which Xander had, unfortunately, learned the hard, honest way. If being shanghaied by Spike and Drusilla and being shackled to a metal table in the basement of a mad gypsy’s lair, could be considered honest.

It certainly had been hard. That he could attest to, and would even testify to, in a court of law, if there was a court of law that would take on such a case. Xander knew there wasn’t.

If Angel hadn’t come along when he did – the master vampire having been tricked by mysterious supernatural forces (Powers of some sort, Xander was a little fuzzy on that) into thinking that it was Buffy’s life that was on the line – Xander would have been ‘married’, for eternity, to Spike who’d made it clear just what role he expected Xander to play in their ‘marriage’. It hadn’t been pretty, and Xander shuddered just thinking about it.

Spike’s fingers had been supernaturally cold, leaving little trails of miniscule icicles in their wake wherever Spike had touched him – and the vampire had touched almost every bit of Xander’s exposed skin. Drusilla’s eyes had been wild and crazy, filled with bloodlust.

Xander had been a terrified, gibbering mess, unable to accurately articulate his fear, and not just because the demented gypsy, hired by the vampire duo to perform the unholy ceremony, had shoved a stick in his mouth, making him bite down on it and hold it there, saliva sliding out of the corners of his mouth, pooling somewhere behind his head. Uncomfortable hadn’t even begun to cover how Xander had felt.

It had all been part of the strange ceremony, as had the drugs Xander’d been force-fed, and the stripping down to boxers, bruised chest (his father’s handiwork from the night before when the man had been drinking –when wasn’t he drinking?) bared for vampires and madman to see clear as day.

Angel had swooped in like some kind of avenging…well, angel. Clad in black leather, eyes shadowed with a darkness that looked almost feral, and made Xander think of the fires of Hades.

He’d arrived just in time for the gypsy’s magic to swirl around and encompass him and Xander both, binding them together for as long as they both should live. The gypsy had been nonplussed, continuing the ceremony as though it hadn’t been interrupted by an irate vampire with fire that glowed in his eyes.

He’d continued chanting – some kind of magical phrase that Xander, in his drugged state, hadn’t been able to follow – in spite of the fact that Spike had wrapped his hands around his throat in an attempt to stop the ceremony before it could be completed. But, the gypsy’s voice couldn’t be stopped, and the words had hung in the air, echoing long after the gypsy’d been bled dry by an incensed Spike.

Angel had stared and blinked at him, once Spike and Drusilla had fled, and the echoes of the gypsy’s words had died down to nothing.

He’d said, “You’re not Buffy,” and then, with a furrowed brow, he’d plucked the stick from Xander’s mouth, and, sealing his lips over Xander’s, he’d kissed him.

A jolt of lightning, or rather what had felt like lightning, struck Xander in the chest, and he knew, instantly, that he and Angel were now eternally bound – just like the crazy gypsy man had said. And, then, he’d promptly passed out and woke, hours, maybe days later, in a large, luxurious bed to find Angel watching him with an intensity that nearly caused him to piss himself, and without a clue as to what had happened.

Angel had filled him in on the finer points of what had happened – the eternal ‘marriage they were now bound heart, soul, mind and…in time….body to – and Xander had panicked. He’d fled from Angel’s mansion to the not-safety of his home.

Unwittingly, he’d babbled the whole sordid story to his parents, who’d stared at him like he was crazy. And, well, in a way, he was – crazy.

His father, having latched onto the only thing that he could understand out of all that Xander had stupidly said – that he was ‘married’ to Angel, a guy – had beaten him, because he’d be damned if he had a fag for a son. That hadn’t been a surprise. What _had_ been a surprise, however, was Angel showing up, again, like a dark, avenging…well, angel, and rescuing him from his father’s fists and vicious words.

It was then that Angel – absentmindedly mopping at some of the blood on Xander’s chin with a thumb – had first declared that he’d be there for Xander, no matter what, and that they’d sort through all of this together. And, it was on the very porch that Xander now stood, hands shoved in his pockets, where he’d first discovered that, though a vampire’s lips were cold as ice, when they pressed to his, they could warm him down to his very toes. Or, maybe it was only Angel’s lips that could do that to him.

Xander snorted at the memory, and shook his head, effectively clearing it. He knew that he was turning red, his neck and his cheeks becoming a sort of fuchsia pink, because he felt a familiar warmth sweep over him as he thought about the vampire he was now saddled with for eternity. Or, well, for as long as they both lived, and, given that Angel was already a centuries old vampire, and Xander was a demon-magnet, the eternity thing could go one of several different ways.

Xander swallowed, and looked at the door. _This shouldn’t be so hard_ , he thought, _just knock, and, when/if the door opens, smile, and ask if you can get your stuff. Nothing to it._

 _“And, if your father tries to kill you again?”_ Angel’s voice, overly serious, threatening death should that actually happen, rang in his memory, and Xander almost laughed aloud, even though there was nothing funny about it. Because, although Xander had said something witty in return, he really had no idea what he would do if his father came at him swinging.

 _“Duck,”_ Jesse’s voice, along with an eerie peal of laughter, came to him, unbidden.

Spooked, Xander looked over his shoulder, wondering if he’d somehow conjured the ghost of his best friend, second only to Willow. There was no ethereal specter standing behind him, but Xander did catch a dark shape – a bulky form _hidden_ , a little conspicuously, behind a tall tree that lined his former front yard – out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his back on it to study the front door once again.

Taking a deep breath, knowing that Angel had, against his wishes, followed him there (something for which he was secretly thankful, but would later scold Angel over, provided that he survived this encounter with his father) Xander pulled one of his hands from the warm depths of his pocket. He formed a fist, looking at the way his skin stretched taut over the knuckles, how white it looked in the waning shadows of the day.

He was cold. His ill-fitting clothing, worn in places that exposed certain areas of his body to a distinct draft, wasn’t going to hold up much longer. He _needed_ to do this.

He’d only been with Angel for a couple of weeks now – after the bonding ceremony, and the averted apocalypse. And, hadn’t _that_ been an unexpected twist? _Not_.

Xander wondered if Spike had known about that little tidbit before hiring the odd gypsy man. If the bleached out vampire would have gone through with the ceremony which was supposed to make him stronger, and virtually invincible (being bound to a human – mind, heart, soul, and eventually body – something that Angel was more than content to wait a couple of years for, at least until Xander was legal, and ready) if he’d known that it would thwart an apocalypse.

Xander had been living in the same outfit that he’d been stripped of for that very ceremony, for going on a couple of weeks now. He’d refused to let Angel buy him new clothing – aside from boxers, because, ew.

It was a matter of pride, more than anything else. Xander freely acknowledged that. He was good with it.  Copacetic with his pride getting in the way of how well, or, rather, in his case, how poorly he dressed.

Xander ignored the way that his classmates pointed at him and snickered as he passed them by in the hallway. He ignored the things that they said behind their hands and whispered into ears eager to hear the gossip regarding Xander Harris, adopted (that was the official lie concocted by Giles and Angel) by a wealthy recluse. Like he was Dick Grayson, moonlighting as Robin, and Angel was Bruce Wayne. Angel’d make a kickass Batman – if a little on the vamp-y side – having muscles in all the right places.

 _Ohmygod…he lives with a billionaire, and he still wears those rags? I think the man’s fucking him …he’s nothing more than a boy toy…but seriously… the man could dress him better, you know? …It’s sick._ Xander let the words of his insensitive classmates fall off of him, like water off a duck’s back, or maybe he was thinking of oil and water. Something and water, he was half-certain of that.

If Harrises had nothing else, it was their pride. Even if it was a little warped at times, such as this. It was the only thing that Xander could take from his father that didn’t turn his stomach, or make him feel like he’d be better off dead, or worse, ‘married,’ for eternity, to Spike.

He took a step forward, the loose floorboard on the porch, the one he normally avoided when coming home late, sagged and squeaked beneath his foot, and he winced. Holding his breath, Xander waited a heartbeat, and when no one appeared in the doorway, no hands grabbing at him from within the warm, if a little stuffy, confines of the place he’d called home once upon a time, Xander let his breath out, watched it crystallize in the much-too-cold-for-Southern-California air.

When the white fog of his breath disappeared, Xander took another step, and then another, and when he was within a breath’s reach of the door, he raised his fist, and let it fall to his side. Hanging his head, Xander stood there, unable to follow through with the simple act of knocking on his parents’ door.

A gust of wind swirled around him, whipped at his hair, and worked its way down to his very bones. He was beyond shivering now. His shoulders slumped, and he felt the treachery of a wet warmth slide down his cheek.

“Xander.” Angel’s hands were on his shoulders, pulling him around.

Before Xander could fully register what was happening, his face was being pressed to the vampire’s chest, wet cheek rubbing against cool, smooth silk, and Angel’s fingers were in his hair, soothing him. He didn’t resist when, after a moment of just standing there, Angel led him across the porch. This time he automatically side-stepped the squeaky step, and didn’t protest when they reached the end of the porch and Angel lifted him, carrying him the rest of the way to the car.

Pride could only take him so far before it crapped out on him. Apparently the limit of his pride was this point, before he’d even knocked on his own front door to gather what remained of his former life, his dignity – a closetful of second-hand clothing purchased at Goodwill™ and various garage sales over the years.

Angel settled Xander into the passenger seat without saying a word. Finally coming to his senses, and realizing what was happening, Xander batted the vampire’s hands away when Angel tried to secure the seatbelt across his lap. He was perfectly capable of doing that himself. He still had a modicum of pride left, even if it had taken a rather decent blow just now. Angel didn’t say anything as he shut the door, and walked around the front of the car, sliding into the driver’s seat with more grace than Xander held in his little pinky toe.

The engine roared to life with a simple flick of Angel’s wrist, and Angel quickly turned on the heater. They sat on the side of the road for a time. Xander shivered to regain some of the warmth that he’d lost. Holding his hands up to the air vents, he closed his eyes to savor the heat as it slowly began to thaw him. When he started to regain feeling in fingers and toes, he opened his eyes, and cast a sidelong look at his knight in leather armor. The Batman to his Robin.

Angel was watching him, brow furrowed in concern, a look on his face that, before now, Xander would have misunderstood. The vampire traced a dried tear-track on Xander’s cheek, and Xander leaned into the touch, craving the odd sort of warmth that Angel brought him.

Before Angel put the car into gear, Xander saw the dark shadow of a silhouette slip into one of the front room windows of his childhood home. Though the shape was obscured by curtains, the pale yellow light behind it doing nothing to make it any more distinct, Xander recognized it as his father, the bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingertips. He could practically smell the smoke, and see the plumes drifting from the glowing cigarette that no doubt hung from the man’s lips.

“Want me to go with you?” Angel whispered, and Xander could tell that Angel would rather that he not do this, at all, even with him by his side.

Shaking his head, Xander tore his eyes away from the window, and took a deep breath. He was still cold, but it had nothing to do with having stood outside for half an hour in a record breaking cold-spell, and everything to do with the fact that he’d stood, unable to move, on the doorstep of a place he should have felt welcome at, a place that, once upon a time, he’d called home.

He reached for, and grasped Angel’s hand, bringing it up to his lips – for the first time since this whole thing started, initiating what might pass for an intimate touch with the vampire he was united to, in all ways, but one. Angel stared at him, unblinking, for what felt like an eternity before turning his eyes away and focusing them on the road before them. Xander thought he could see the corner of the vampire’s mouth curled upward in a smile.

“Let’s go home,” Xander said, his head falling back against the headrest. Suddenly exhausted, though he hadn’t done anything other than stare at a closed door for half an hour, he closed his eyes, letting another chapter of his life come to a close with a sigh of resignation.

He held fast to Angel, letting their entwined hands fall into the space between them, relishing the strange warmth that stole through him from the simple act of holding Angel’s hand.

Giles had mentioned something about there being some kind of impulse for them to kiss and touch, and to do other things that Xander did not yet want to think about. An impulse which would only grow greater with the passage of time as the bond between them, ‘matured’.

“You going to let me buy you some new clothes?” Angel asked once he’d pulled onto the main road, leaving Xander’s mother and father – his former life – behind.

“I won’t be able to pay you back,” Xander said, weighing his words carefully. “Not until I get a job, and…”

Angel squeezed Xander’s hand, causing Xander to lift his eyes and look at him. “Xander, don’t…” He didn’t add anything else, let whatever it was that he’d been going to say remain unspoken, heavy between them. “Just…let me do this for you.”

Angel’s eyes were glittering with something that Xander couldn’t identify, before he turned to look at the road again, and Xander found himself nodding, enjoying the way that Angel’s hand felt in his – how it seemed to fit just right. The comforting way in which the vampire was rubbing the pad of his thumb across the outer edge of Xander’s thumb sent a little thrill down his spine. Something for him to examine later.

“Okay,” Xander said, after a pause.

He could do this. He could swallow his pride (there was so little of it left) and let Angel take care of him. At least for the time being, until they got this whole mess sorted out, and Giles, or Buffy, or Willow, or Angel, or he found a loophole in the gypsy’s magic. There was a part of Xander, not as small as it had been at the beginning of this that almost wished a loophole wouldn’t be found.

“Thank you,” Angel said, and he lifted their entwined hands, kissing Xander’s knuckles, and Xander wondered if maybe things were moving more quickly for Angel than they were for him. Maybe it was the difference in their ages, or maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, Xander wasn’t going to question it. Not now, maybe not ever.

 


	3. Loophole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The loophole? Apparently Xander's the anchor for Angel's soul.

"So," Xander said slowly, drawing out the single syllable word like it had fifteen O's as opposed to just one, and looking at each of his friends in turn before settling his gaze on Angel, and then looking once again at Giles, who had all the answers. "Let me get this straight, _I'm_ the loophole?"

Giles took a deep breath and shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, pinching it. He had his eyes screwed shut, as though fighting off a nasty headache. Which could very well be the case, given the circumstances. Xander wondered how many headaches Giles combated on a weekly basis. Being a Watcher for a teenage vampire slayer couldn’t be easy, factor in the Scooby Gang, and it was probably downright difficult. If not worse.

After another deep breath, Giles opened his eyes, and trained them on Xander, looking from the boy to the aged vampire sitting next to him.

"I'm afraid so," Giles said.

"So, if I lose my soul, Angel loses his?" Xander had to say the words aloud because he was having a hard time wrapping his head around the concept that, if he all of the sudden went dark-side, Angel would become Angelus.

Thinking about that horrible possibility conjured up some of the images that Spike had planted in his head about what he’d like to do with Xander once they were magically, permanently, bonded. Just thinking about what the blonde vampire had said to him just before the ceremony was started made him feel queasy, and he quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Of course, if he’d lost his own soul, maybe it wouldn’t matter much to him what Angelus did. Maybe, soulless-Xander would actually enjoy some of those... _things._

_Not thinking about it,_ Xander told himself, and he focused his attention on Giles, burying the vividly detailed pictures that Spike had implanted in his mind.

"Yes," Giles said tiredly, as though he'd been saying the same thing over and over again, and no one was listening. "Your soul, er, rather Angel's soul is tied, irrevocably to yours."

Xander swallowed and nodded. It wasn't exactly the loophole they'd been looking for, it didn’t give him and Angel a way out of this ‘relationship,’ and it put an enormous amount of pressure on him. Not that he had all that much control over the keeping or losing of his soul, but, surely there were other things which he could do, things under his control, that could cause harm to Angel’s soul, and bring out the vampire’s darker side. Not knowing what those things were, not having it all spelled out for him was unnerving. How could he stop Angel’s soul from being lost if he didn’t understand how to keep his own intact?

Xander felt like the room was spinning around him, all of the possibilities of what the rather generally worded warning – the loophole – actually meant for him, and for Angel. For their world. If Xander somehow unwittingly loosened the veritable Kraken on Sunnydale, it would be a bloodbath. Nothing would be the same.

"Xander," Angel's voice was soft, and the vampire covered Xander's hand with his own, easing some of Xander's stress. The room stopped spinning, and he could breathe again.

"It'll be fine," Angel reassured him, looking into his eyes. Xander got the distinct impression that Angel was looking into his very soul and it made him shudder.

"Yeah, but what if I'm turned, or...or...or become one of those...those..." the hand that wasn't anchored by Angel's flailed into the air to illustrate a point that Xander couldn't find the right words to actually articulate.

“Are you afraid of becoming goth or emo?" Willow asked, socking him in the arm. “I don’t think that it works like that.” Though she’d spoken with confidence, Willow shot a quick look at their mentor, studiously ignoring Xander’s glare, and the way that he rubbed at the sore spot on his arm.

“Right?” Willow asked when Giles didn’t immediately confirm what she’d said, an edge of worry to her voice.

She shot a look at Buffy who was twirling a loose hair around her finger and staring at the page in front of her with a blank look on her face. Xander doubted that she was taking in anything that the page said, she’d been on the same page for the last half hour and hadn’t contributed anything to the conversation.

He knew that this was hard on Buffy, losing Angel to him. It was hard on him. Xander’d wager that it was hard on _all_ of them, Giles included.

Up until that gypsy had put the whammy on the two of them, Xander had hated Angel on principle alone. Not only was Angel a vampire, but he’d also, in Xander’s mind, stolen Buffy from him, not that Xander had really had a chance with the girl he’d crushed on from the first time he’d seen her – all golden hair and light. He’d been angered and jealous, and he hadn’t trusted the vampire with a soul anymore than he’d trusted his father whenever the man swore off alcohol.

Xander had, in a word, hated vampires. Their very existence, or rather his knowledge of their existence, had stolen what remained of his childhood from him. Vampires had taken one of his best friends from him, forcing him to make a choice – either turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to what was happening around him, sparing Jesse’s unlife, or open his eyes and ears and act. He’d chosen to act, and, while he didn’t exactly regret knowing what he now knew, he did regret having held the stake that ended what was left of Jesse’s life.

Up until a month ago, Xander had hated everything about vampires and all that they represented, and now, well, his entire world had been turned upside down, again, and, while he wasn’t completely onboard with it, he was starting to see that the world wasn’t nearly as black and white as he’d once thought it was. Black and white worlds were easier to handle – things were either right or wrong, and there was no grey space in between where things, like motives and the greater good, could get muddied.

His world was no longer safely black and white, and Xander was no longer strictly his own. Every decision that he made, from here on out, and everything he chose to do, would affect, not only himself, but also Angel, and, in a way, the world around them. It was a lot to take in, and Xander wasn’t sure that he’d be up for all that this new life of his entailed.

“Right, right,” Giles said, blinking and rubbing at his eyes. “Angel’s soul should remain intact were you to, ah, start wearing dark mascara and black nail polish, and er, well lose some of the, er... loudness of your wardrobe.” He arched an eyebrow and seemed to be considering Xander seriously.

Xander squirmed in his seat, feeling very much like a bug being examined beneath a magnifying glass. Angel squeezed his hand and rubbed a thumb across Xander’s knuckles, and, comforted, Xander settled in his seat.

A month and they were already attuned to each other’s moods and needs, or, at least Angel was attuned to Xander’s. It was unnerving, and disconcerting, and Xander would go mad if he tried to wrap his mind around it rather than accept that it just was.

Xander shook his head and leaned back in his seat, tipping his chair back on two legs. “Not gonna happen, G-man.”

Eyes lighting up with laughter, Willow stifled a giggle behind her hand, and Angel’s grip tightened on Xander’s, as if the mere thought that Xander would start wearing black, and dark eye shadow and mascara frightened him. But, when Xander watched Angel out of the corner of his eye, plunking the front legs of his chair down with an audible, bang, his heartbeat quickened.

Angel’s lips were turned up slightly, and his brow was creased as though deep in wistful thought about something, and he was staring, not at Xander, but at nothing. Maybe dying his hair inky black and donning black clothing and a chain wouldn’t be such a bad thing, not if Angel might maybe kind of sort of like it.

_And since when did I start caring about what Angel likes?_ Xander shook off his wandering thoughts.

“Hmm...” Buffy said, her index finger tracing along a passage. Maybe she hadn’t been zoning out after all.

“What is it?” Giles asked.

Buffy hunched over the book and held up a finger for silence as she read, muttering the words under her breath. When she finished, she frowned and then her shoulders slumped. She lifted her head and looked, really looked, at Xander and Angel, as though seeing them for the first time.

“According to this...” she trailed off and tilted her head to the side, squinting her eyes at the both of them.

“According to this...” she sat up, and frowned, and Xander was holding his breath, wondering what on earth Buffy could have found.

“Yes, Buffy?” Giles quietly coaxed, reaching a hand out to rest on Buffy’s arm. “What is it? Have you found a loophole that will dissever the connection between Xander and Angel?”

Buffy took a deep breath and shook her head, giving Xander and Angel a sad smile. “No, no loopholes here.”

Willow gave an exasperated sigh, and rolled her eyes. “What _have_ you found, Buffy?”

“Oh, um,” Buffy cleared her throat and turned slightly pink. Averting her eyes, she traced the words of the book once again, as though the act of it would give the words on the page a voice so that she wouldn’t have to tell them whatever it was that she’d discovered.

“Buffy?” Giles urged.

“What is it?” Angel asked, his voice hoarse, as though he already knew what it was that Buffy had learned and was dreading the hearing of it.

Buffy shook her head, and when she looked up at them, her eyes were sparkling with tears. “You and Xander, there’s no...what was it Giles had said,” she looked over at her Watcher as though she could read the word she was looking for on his face, “...dismembering?...of your...” she gestured with her hands, and exhaled in a rush of hot air. “Uh...union.”

Giles cleared his throat, and, if Xander was not mistaken, he hid a chuckle behind it. “Dissevering, Buffy, it means...”

“It means,” Buffy interrupted, a little huffily, her cheeks puffing out and pinking once again. “That Xander and Angel can never be separated, and that they uh need to... _you know_ , if they haven’t already... _you know_...or, rather, that the only way that they can be separated is through Angel’s death, provided that they haven’t... _you know_...and Xander’s soul then has to be...”

She examined the passage, her nose crinkling as she read, her finger once more tracing the path that her eyes made across the page. “...’merged with the dark soul of another similar to that of the former soul partner...’ yada, yada, yada. In essence, you two are stuck with each other, if you’ve already...you know’d with each other...and, according to this...”

Buffy leaned in close to the book, her nose practically touching the page, tongue sticking out between her lips. “Neither of you can so much as look at another, uh,” she blushed again. “...in you know, _that_ way,” she looked up at Angel, and quickly glanced away, her face becoming beet red, “or it could cause that dislevering or whatchamacallit thingy.”

Xander shifted in his seat, and looked over at Angel. The vampire’s eyes were still staring at nothing, his thumb caressing the back side of Xander’s hand as though it was nothing more than an impulse. It was beginning to creep Xander out, and he wondered if maybe this...diswhatevering...thing was happening right now, if Angel was lusting after Buffy. The thought brought out a twinge of the jealousy that he’d formerly reserved for Angel’s attentions to Buffy, and Xander felt his world tilt on its axis.

“Angel, what is it?” Giles leaned closer to the vampire, elbows resting on the table. Apparently he’d caught on to what Xander had noticed earlier, that the vampire wasn’t quite himself – prevailing, ever-present broodiness aside.

Angel shook himself, and he breathed in deeply through his nose, something which Xander had come to take as a matter of course. For someone who didn’t need to breathe, at all, Angel seemed to do it on a regular basis. When he’d asked about it, once after they’d kissed, Angel had said that it helped him to center himself, and enhanced his sense of smell.

“Not sure,” Angel said. “I just thought I heard something.”

“Heard something as in we might not be alone kind of heard something or as in a storm’s brewing kind of heard something or as in a...” Willow had an alarmed look on her face and she was looking around the room, eyes wide with worry.

Xander placed a hand on hers and she fixed her eyes on his. “Relax, Willow. Breathe. I’m sure that it’s nothing to be alarmed about.” He cut his eyes over to Angel’s hoping to find something reassuring in the vampire’s eyes. What he saw caused him to do a double-take.

Angel shook his head slightly, and stood abruptly, pulling Xander up with him. “We need to leave.”

He offered no explanation, and, slightly shaken, the others rose. Leaving everything behind, exactly where it was, they followed after Angel who was practically carrying Xander in his haste to leave the library.

Darkness had long since fallen over Sunnydale, and none of them lingered in the parking lot. Though Angel hadn’t spoken a word of direction, everyone piled into Giles’ car, with the exception of Angel and Xander who got into Angel’s car, Xander tucked securely in the passenger’s seat, amidst quite a deal of protest. Angel even locked the door before rounding the car and settling behind the steering wheel.

Angel peeled out of the parking lot at breakneck speeds, burning rubber, and Xander turned in his seat, watching his friends follow, almost as quickly. He knew that Giles’ car wouldn’t be able to keep up with the sporty car that Angel had, and he watched as the vehicle’s lights faded to nothingness behind them.

He turned in his seat and watched Angel for a minute. The vampire’s face was shadowed, like some kind of veil had fallen between them, obscuring Xander’s view of him. It made him shiver, and Xander gripped the door-handle tightly.

“What happened back there?” he asked, fully aware that his voice had quivered. “Who was there? What did you hear?”

“Not now, Xander,” Angel said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Was it Spike? Is Spike after me?” Xander’s stomach twisted in fear, and he pictured Spike – too-pale face leaning over Xander’s, eyes tinged blood-red, fangs millimeters from Xander’s neck.

“I said, not now,” Angel snapped, and Xander flinched as though he’d been slapped.

He looked away from the vampire, knowing now that Angel’s face was now warped, fangs showing, forehead a mass of rigid bumps. Heart hammering with fear of Angel and fear of whatever, or whoever it was that had caused Angel to react this way, Xander looked out of the window and watched the scenery pass by in a blur of muted greens and browns.

“I’m...sorry,” Angel said, reaching for him, but Xander pulled away, and Angel’s hand dropped to the seat. “I...I’ll explain, when you’re safe, at the house.”

Not trusting his voice, Xander nodded, and forced his body to relax. It wasn’t easy, because Angel was still sporting his vamp-face, and that always freaked him out, no matter how many times Angel assured him that he wouldn’t hurt him.

_It’s only been a month_ , he told himself, in an effort to calm his breathing. _Just a month._ _Old habits don’t die in a month’s time._

He thought that he’d heard that somewhere, maybe in one of his classes. Not that he often paid attention in class; it was hard to pay attention, what with everything that was going on outside of, and underneath the school.

Most of the time his mind wandered toward thoughts of vampires and apocalypses, and other things that went bump in the night. Nowadays, they wandered to thoughts of how living with Angel wasn’t half as bad as he’d feared it would be. How sleeping in a nice bed, almost bigger than the room he’d left behind, rendered a much better sleep. How pretty Angel’s eyes were when they caught the light of the fire in the fireplace just right...

Xander came to himself, breath catching in his throat, when Angel pulled into the drive, and parked the car, ambling out of it, and opening the passenger’s door before Xander could so much as blink. He was already reaching for, and ushering Xander out of the car, like a secret service agent, keeping Xander safe as they entered the house.

Angel flicked the light switch on, bathing them in light, and he shut the door behind them with a resounding, click. Angel propelled Xander toward the couch in the living room, and Xander sat, without protest. He was winded and dizzy, and thoughts were racing in his head.

“What’s going on?” Xander asked.

He could hear the sound of an engine and of tires crunching gravel, and then the sound of three car doors slamming shut. He strained his ears to hear his friends’ footfalls on the gravel drive, and then the clacking of shoes against the pavement of the new cement walkway that Angel’d had poured not too long ago.

There had been a number of changes to Angel’s mansion, since Xander had arrived – new furniture and appliances that humans took as commonplace, but which vampires really had no need for. It gave Xander an idea of just how wealthy Angel was. Which was very, but his rudimentary calculations.

There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a muffled, “Angel, it’s us,” that sounded an awful lot like Giles.

Angel was already opening the door before the final word died off at the end, and the rest of the Scooby Gang was soon filing into the mansion, making a beeline for the living room. With a quick glance in Angel’s direction, Willow sat beside Xander.

Buffy, looking a little uncertain, paced the living room, taking in all of the recent changes that Angel had made to the room. Giles made a circle of the room, and then took a seat in one of the armchairs that was positioned across from the couch. A rectangular coffee table sat between them, littered with the innards of a newspaper that Angel had read earlier that day, and some of Xander’s homework that he’d forgotten to turn in that day.

“Xander,” Willow’s voice sounded accusatory, and she reached for one of the assignments that he’d neglected to turn in. Her eyes scanned the contents of the paper quickly, and she frowned. “This was due last week.”

“Yeah, well...” Xander didn’t have an excuse, at least not one that Willow, who actually liked and excelled at school, would understand.

Ignoring him, she tutted and went about gathering up the loose papers, putting them into some kind of order. Knowing Willow, it was bound to be logical. Xander didn’t even try to stop her. Since he’d stopped spending nights at her house – without the threat of his father’s heavy-handed beatings hanging over him, he’d not needed the sanctuary that Willow’s room offered him – his grades had dropped, even lower than they already were.

“I’ll take care of this for you,” Willow said. Even if Xander had wanted to protest, her lips were set in a thin, don’t-you-dare-attempt-to-contradict-me, line, and he knew better than to try to cross that.

“Thank you.”

“And, when this is over, whatever it is, we’re going to talk. You can’t let all of this get in the way of your education,” Willow said. “Have you heard some of the things kids have been saying about you and...and Angel, about why your grades are slipping to an all new low?” To her credit she blushed, redder than her hair, and she dropped her eyes, losing some of the fierceness she’d had when she’d begun to lecture him.

“I know,” Xander kept his voice light and low, not wanting Willow to know how much people’s words were affecting him. How much their jibes niggled and hurt him.

He was a duck, their words were water – he’d looked the phrase up, and was planning on living by it, now that he knew what it was. The rumors had only gotten worse since he’d accepted Angel’s gift of clothing, even though the vampire had co-opted the help of Willow and Buffy with the actual act of shopping. They’d dragged Xander from shop to shop until he no longer knew whether he was coming or going.

Now, he really did look the part of Dick Grayson, all that he was missing to complete the act was a brightly colored cape, a tight-fitting red leotard type thingy, green booties and matching gloves, and a nifty black cowl. The rumors spreading like wildfire across the school, however, made mention of Xander, not only owning such costumery, but utilizing it in rather _creative_ ways. One of his favorites was that his new guardian, whom many ignoramuses called Bruce, liked it when Xander sucked him off, wearing nothing but the green booties, gloves, and the cowl.

“I’m sorry,” Willow quickly apologized, and she clutched Xander’s homework tightly to her chest.

“Would anyone like something to drink, or eat?” Angel said suddenly, stopping Buffy’s pacing, and pulling Xander from his rapidly spiraling thoughts.

“I think it’s best if we get right to the point,” Giles said, drawing the eye of everyone in the room.

The Watcher was polishing his glasses; a nervous habit that Xander thought was rather endearing, but would never actually say aloud. Even he knew when to limit his mouth.  

Angel seemed to sag, but then he nodded and straightened. Buffy flopped down into the other armchair and bounced in it, as though testing the springs. Giles cleared his throat, and one final bounce later, and a sheepish look at her Watcher, she settled down in the chair, and gave Xander a small, satisfied grin.

“I assume that you ushered us out of the school because...” Giles trailed off, waiting for the vampire to finish the sentence.

“Spike and Drusilla were there,” Angel said, confirming what Xander had feared.

“And, am I right in assuming that you and Xander...” Giles cleared his throat and looked away. His cheeks grew red, and he rubbed the back of his neck before taking a deep breath and piercing Angel with a look that was half challenge, and half rebuke. “Have not...”

“Sealed the deal?” Buffy said, she was looking at her nails, as though bored, but Xander could see how stiffly she was holding herself, how, even after a month, and even knowing that all of this wasn’t a choice, that it wasn’t Xander’s or Angel’s fault, she was still having a hard time accepting it. Forgiving him. Forgiving Angel.

“Buffy,” Giles’ voice rang sharp with disappointment, and Buffy sagged in the chair.

“No, we haven’t,” Angel said, casting a quick look at Xander, as though he’d been hoping that they could have this conversation without him present.

Xander’s heart started racing, and butterflies filled his stomach. He wasn’t ready for this conversation. Not now. Not in front of the only friends he had left in the world, and the man he’d come to think of as a father, though he’d only known him a short time.

This was a conversation best held in the dark, closeted away or maybe by the light of the fireplace, Angel’s eyes reflecting the flickering flames just right. Making the firelight dance in his eyes, fingers entwined with Xander’s, thumb rubbing soothingly over Xander’s knuckles, cool lips and tongue trailing a hot blaze across Xander’s collarbone.

“Xander?” Willow nudged him in the ribs, and he let out a whoosh of air, breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Angel was sitting beside him, hand pressed to Xander’s lower back, thighs touching, brow furrowed deeply with concern.

“Are you alright?” Angel’s voice was a whisper, and Xander doubted that anyone else could hear him right now. He nodded, even though he felt like he was about to fall apart, the world crashing right around his ears.

Giles was watching them thoughtfully, lips pursed, glasses dangling from the fingertips of his left hand, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. He shook his head and leaned forward, dropping his right hand to his lap.

“Angel, you know that not sealing the bond puts both of you at risk.” Giles’ voice was soft, yet it did nothing to soften the impact of his words, and it only served to make the cutting bite of them that much sharper. Angel’s hand stilled on Xander’s back, and a soft rumble issued forth from his chest. A growl. Angel’s eyes grew golden, and then darkened, and Xander shivered when Angel vamped, and turned to hiss at Giles.

To his credit, Giles didn’t flinch, and he didn’t back down. He merely raised an eyebrow, and gave Angel look that dared him to try something. Buffy stiffened in her seat, suddenly alert, body practically thrumming with an electrical current that Xander felt crackling in the air, and could almost see.

Willow let out a little squeak, and Xander shifted his weight, seeking the warmth of his human friend. Willow let him lean against her, but she didn’t take her eyes off of Angel – the predator in the room.

“Getting upset with me over pointing out the obvious isn’t going to help matters,” Giles said, matter-of-factly.

Angel’s face smoothed out and he let out a breath that he didn’t even need to take. He resumed his gentle rubbing of Xander’s back, and he held the Watcher’s gaze.

“I was waiting,” Angel said. “Hoping that we’d find a loophole. That we wouldn’t have to seal the bond.”

Xander’s heart fell, and he blinked back sudden tears. He felt foolish, and hot and cold, and like there wasn’t enough air in the world, because he couldn’t breathe, and the room was spinning, and for some, unfathomable reason, Angel not wanting him _hurt._ Like a sucker punch to the stomach, followed up by a roundhouse kick to the nuts, and, just for good measure, an uppercut to the chin, snapping his head back and jarring his spine. Xander felt weak, and small, and darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.

“Xander,” Willow’s voice came to him through a tunnel, and he felt her hands on his shoulders.

“Xander?” Angel’s voice was distant, tinny, and the vampire’s hand on his back was the only thing keeping him present. “Xander, it’s okay. It’s alright. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can continue to look for a loophole. Set you free.”

Angel’s voice broke, and Xander forced his eyes to work, blinked to clear the tears that had gathered in his eyes like storm clouds. He felt them slip hotly down his cheeks, but ignored them in favor of seeking out Angel’s eyes, making sure that the vampire was alright, because his voice had sounded, dead, broken.

“Angel,” Giles’ voice snapped all of them to attention, and they focused their gazes, as though a single unit, on him. “There is no loophole. The longer you let this drag out, without properly sealing the bond between you and Xander, the greater the chance that he’ll be taken from you, and bonded to another being, like Spike. There is no more waiting for Xander to be okay with this. No more looking for a loophole that doesn’t exist. No more putting yourself and Xander at risk. This ends tonight.”

By the time he’d finished speaking, Giles was up on his feet, pacing the length of the living room and glaring at each of them – Willow and Buffy included – in turn. His eyes were glinting dangerously, the light from the fire that Angel must’ve started when Xander hadn’t been paying attention, was dancing in them. It was a sight to behold, and, for several long heartbeats, it seemed that everyone in the room collectively held their breaths.

With a couple of deep breaths, Giles polished his glasses roughly, and then pushed them onto his face. He dropped into the armchair, and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“You know what needs to be done, Angel,” Giles said, and his eyes flicked to Xander and then quickly away. “There is no more time to waste.”

Angel nodded, and closed his eyes. His hand stilled on Xander’s back, and Xander felt his skin crawl when Angel shifted closer, and Willow pulled away.

He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t. He wasn’t ready to be committed to Angel in soul, heart, mind and body. He didn’t want this. He was halfway certain that Angel didn’t want this.

And yet, they didn’t have a choice. It was this, or, Xander would spend an eternity bound to someone like Spike, who wouldn’t hesitate to ‘seal the deal,’ to make good on some of the rather graphic details that he’d whispered to Xander when Xander had been tethered to a table, unable to move, unable to do anything other than listen and inwardly cringe, and pray for Buffy to come and save him.

Except, it hadn’t been Buffy, and, Xander realized that, if it had been his crush – the girl that he’d spent hours fantasizing about once upon a time – he could’ve been bound to her, their lives entwined like his fingers with Angel’s. Xander looked at their twined fingers, studied them carefully, and then he looked at Buffy.

She was watching the both of them with a stricken look on her face, unshed tears pooled in her eyes, making them sparkle like gems in the firelight. Her heart was breaking. Had been breaking for going on a month now, but there’d been hope then. Hope that this magic could be broken, that a loophole to free Angel from Xander would be found, and that Angel could be hers once again.

It made Xander’s heart ache for his friend, and he had to turn away from Buffy, because, even knowing that it could’ve been her who’d saved him in that dark, dank basement, that their lives could be forever bound together, Xander was happy that it was Angel who’d showed up in her stead. He was happy to have his heart linked with Angel’s. Happy that their souls were twinned. Happy that it hadn’t been Buffy.

The room stopped spinning, and Xander was able to breathe. Angel’s face had never looked clearer, the vampire’s hand had never felt so right as it did at this very moment.

“No more pretense,” Giles said quietly. “What you have been putting off, the supernatural bond has been striving to fulfill.”

Angel nodded, his eyes darker than usual. Xander’s throat was dry, his palms sweaty, and he attempted to swallow some of his fear down.

“Uhm,” Giles cleared his throat, and Angel shifted his gaze, briefly freeing Xander from the heaviness of it. “According to what I’ve read...”

A quick glance at his mentor confirmed to Xander that the man was blushing, and his stomach flipped a little as he realized why Giles was blushing.

“An exchange of...uh...bodily fluids, eh hem, needs to take place.” Giles removed his glasses and focused on rubbing the lenses. His face was so red that it must feel like it was on fire.

Xander processed Giles’ words, and his eyes went wide. It was his turn to blush. He sent a panicked look in Willow’s direction. She was steadfastly ignoring all of them, her focus completely on the work that Xander had yet to complete, filling in answers for him in a completely uncharacteristic fashion that bespoke of just how uncomfortable his bestsest friend was. Buffy’s hands were clenched into fists, and she was looking up at the ceiling, her eyes were sparkling jewels as she struggled not to cry.

“Blood,” Angel said, his voice rough, and Xander turned to stare at the vampire. “We can exchange blood. I’ll drink from you, and you can drink from me. The other, that can wait until later, when you’re older. When you’re ready.”

Xander didn’t know if he’d ever be ready for what Angel was purposefully not saying. Xander didn’t even want to think the word, let alone hear or say it, and it was funny, because before this happened he had thought about the very thing everyone was avoiding voicing aloud, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Before he was saddled with Angel, and Angel with him, the thought of _that_ and _doing it_ had never really been far from his mind. It had been a constant thought, an ever-present hum in his veins, and he’d woken, most mornings, wet and semi-hard from dreams that slipped away from soon after he woke.

“Oh,” Giles said the word as though it was a prayer. His fingers stilled, and he blinked at Angel, opening and closing his mouth, before finally settling on a smile. “Yes...that would work. Blood.”

Angel nodded, and smiled, dragging a finger along the underside of Xander’s chin. “I’ve thought about it for quite awhile now,” he said, voice soft and warm, and Xander’s heart swelled with something that he was too afraid to acknowledge right now as he realized just how much Angel had sacrificed, and how much thought the vampire had put into all of this. How much thought he’d put into them. How much he’d thought about Xander.

“Blood is, technically, a bodily fluid,” Giles mused aloud, and Willow giggled, a little maniacally, as though she was trying hard to keep it together. She was still looking over Xander’s work, fixing what he’d done wrong, and, in effect, cheating.

“And, it was Spike, and Drusilla, at the school?” Xander asked.

Angel nodded. “They’re here. Outside.”

“They’re here?” Giles turned around, nearly unsettling himself from his chair.

Buffy shrugged, and picked at some invisible lint on her shirt. She’d known. Xander tried not to feel hurt about Buffy and Angel keeping them in the dark about that.

“Yes, but, they’re being _polite_. Waiting for everyone to leave.” Angel looked pointedly at Buffy who gave him a smirk that was a ghost of her usual one. “Before they go after Xander.”

“If we,” Xander swallowed, he focused his gaze on Angel’s fingers, the way that the vampire’s thumb brushed methodically over his. “If we, um, exchangebodilyfluids, then they can’t...Spike can’t,” he closed his eyes, trying to rid his mind of Spike’s words. “Spike can’t...he can’t...”

Angel grasped Xander’s chin and waited until Xander opened his eyes. “Spike won’t be able to do anything, not without going through me first.”

“And, if he gets through you?” Xander hated how his voice squeaked.

“He won’t,” Angel said, the words a promise that Xander didn’t doubt.

“If he gets through Angel,” Buffy said, her voice loud and confident. “Then he’ll have to go through me, and he’s not getting through me.”

“Xander, once you and Angel seal the bond, Spike cannot lay claim to you, even if he does manage to get through both Angel and Buffy,” Giles said.

A growl, and an disgruntled, “Hey!” met his words, and, in spite of, or maybe because of his nerves, Xander laughed.

“And, besides, if Spike somehow managed to get through Buffy,” Willow’s voice was soft and wavered a little bit, but she had her resolve face on, and Xander had never loved his best friend more than right now. “Well, then he’d have to get through me, and that isn’t going to happen.”

“Now, children, there’s no need...”

A loud bang on the door, fit to break the door down, sounded, and Xander jumped. Angel growled, and whipped around, letting go of Xander so fast that Xander almost fell to the floor. He was in full-out vamp mode, stalking to the door before Xander could blink.

Giles was up, after him, bodily trying to restrain the vampire, and being thrown off for his efforts. Angel flung the door open, the hinges straining loudly with the strength of it. Backlit by the moon, Spike stood in the doorway, fists in the frame. Darla was dancing in the yard behind him. Twirling and singing something that Xander couldn’t hear.

“I want him back,” Spike said. There was no hint of anger in his voice, a jovial smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he shot a heated look in Xander’s direction. It was as though he expected Angel to hand Xander over to him with no questions asked.

“He’s not yours,” Angel growled.

“He’s not yours yet, either, mate,” Spike said, judging by aura, and what the stars are saying to Drusilla. He jerked his chin in the direction of the dancing vampire.

Angel cracked his neck, and Giles pulled at his arm. “Now is not the time,” Giles hissed at the vampire. He didn’t even glance in Spike’s direction.

Willow had stopped fixing and finishing Xander’s homework. She was now clutching his arm, effectively keeping him in place on the couch.

Buffy was poised in the foyer, halfway between the opened door and the living room. She’d taken a mostly defensive pose, ready to protect Willow and Xander should Spike somehow make it past Angel and into the vampire’s house.

“Leave,” Angel said, his voice making Xander shiver from where he sat.

“Make me,” Spike said, and he smiled, baring his teeth. He shook his head, and shifted, and was now crouched on the other side of the door, an invisible barrier keeping him from entering.

“Angel, you don’t have to do this. Go to Xander,” Giles pleaded with the vampire, hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Finish this.”

“That’s what I’m going to do,” Angel’s voice rumbled, and Xander felt as though he’d been struck by lightning once again, a remnant of the gypsy’s magic thrumming through his veins, calling him to watch, to not take his eyes off of Angel.

Angel stepped out into the moonlight, and the door slammed shut behind him, cutting off Xander’s line of sight, his connection with the other half of his soul. Xander’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he gripped the hand that Willow had slipped into his with bruising force, hearing her sharp intake of breath, but not understanding it. He was blind. Angel was gone, and he was blind.

Xander heard howling, felt it down to his very bones. Heard, but couldn’t see. Felt a blow to the side of his head, as though it had happened to him, but something, some knowledge that he didn’t understand, told him that it was Angel, not him, who’d been hit.

_Same difference,_ he thought, as he slipped sideways, heard Willow shout his name, but couldn’t stop the darkness from swallowing him.

He felt. Felt pain. Felt a deep, bone-jarring anguish. A fire in his gut, in his soul.

Felt, but couldn’t see.

Was powerless to act.

To do.

To move.

Was stuck, trapped, and felt his flesh burn within the very depths of hell as evil drew its forked tongue across his neck.

Bloodlust.

Powerful.

Burning.

Aching.

Need.

It struck him, cloyed in his nostrils, stuck in his throat, and Xander thirsted as he’d never thirsted before.

“Xander, Xander,” Willow’s voice was calling to him, but he couldn’t see her. “Xander, wake up.” His cheek stung.

“Wake up, Xander,” Buffy’s voice, strained, worried. “Come on, Xander, wake up. Angel needs you.”

“Girls, maybe you should step away.” Giles’ voice was tired, weary, and Xander turned toward it. “Give the boy some room to breathe.”

“What happened out there?” Buffy’s voice was whisper-loud.

“Did he...did Angel...?” Willow’s voice trailed off into nothingness, and Xander felt like he was floating in a deep sea of nothingness, clinging to bits of smoke that drifted away at his touch.

“Xander, wake up,” another voice coaxed. It was heaven, and hell, and it forced his eyes open.

“Xander? You with me?” heaven called him, and Xander focused his sight on brown eyes rimmed with gold.

Xander struggled to sit up, but arms held him down, hands cupping his face kept him in place, kept the room from spinning.

“It’s over,” heaven promised, and hell nodded its agreement as cool lips stole his breath away in a searing kiss that made his lungs burn, and cleared his head.

“Angel?” he spoke into the mouth that covered his own.

“Xander,” Angel hummed his name, his tongue sweeping over Xander’s. “Love, I’ve got you.”

“Love?” Xander turned the word around in his mind, in his heart, and then he just gave into the kiss, the moment. Swallowed down blood that wasn’t his own from a wounded, bloodied vampire, before it was suddenly gone, and then he felt a molten hot pressure as the tips of fangs sunk into his neck, at the juncture just above his collarbone. He raised his hands to Angel’s shoulders, clung to the vampire as Angel supped on his blood, and then their mouths locked together in a kiss that Xander hoped would never end.

“Girls,” Giles’ voice sounded as though it was coming from another universe, one in which Buffy and Angel got together, and Angel lost his soul, and where Willow and Xander were an item once upon a time. It was a strange, otherworldly universe, and Xander didn’t want anything to do with it. Didn’t want anything to do with a needy Spike who lived in his basement and survived off of microwaved pig’s blood, and an Angel that he hated to the point where it was pathetic.

There was a significant clearing of a throat, and then the pressure on Xander’s lips lessened, the coppery taste of blood left his mouth, and Xander’s head spun with the loss of Angel’s lips, his mouth, his teeth, the taste of the vampire’s bloodied tongue – somewhere between chocolate and the sweet cream of Twinkies. It was heady, and Xander didn’t want to breathe, didn’t need to breathe, if it meant this separation, this loss of Angel’s mouth, his tongue, his lips.

“It’s okay, now,” Angel said, stroking Xander’s hair, and lapping at the puncture wounds in his neck, like a kitten – of a ferocious man killing lion. “Spike’s gone. He won’t be coming back for you.”

Xander thought that maybe he should ask if Angel killed the blonde-haired vampire, but he didn’t have the inclination or the energy to. It was enough just to have Angel promise him that the vampire wouldn’t be back for him. He’d take Angel at his word, and get the details from him at some other time, once he’d gathered his wits about himself.

“Girls,” Giles’ voice was right there, and not a universe away. It pulled Xander’s gaze from the top of Angel’s head, bent over him. He blinked at his mentor, and Giles smiled. “Girls, it’s time to leave. Willow, grab Xander’s homework, we’ll set up a schedule for tutoring. Buffy, stop gaping.”

There was a sputtered protest, and some grumbling, but both girls scrambled to obey. There was the sound of stomping feet, followed by some more muttered commands and protests, and then the slamming of a door. The distant sound of an engine roaring to life, and then of tires spitting out gravel as Giles drove away, lulled Xander into a sense of peace.

Xander’s fingers somehow found their way into Angel’s hair, and he massaged the vampire’s scalp, smiling when Angel stopped his lapping and turned his face upward, looking every bit the angel that he’d been mistaken for when he was anything but.

“Kiss me again?” Xander’s voice sounded scratchy and wrecked. Suddenly, he wondered why he’d been so hesitant to take this final step, sealing the bond that the gypsy had started between him and Angel. Right now, with Angel staring at him, dark eyes ringed with gold, Xander couldn’t think of anything better to do with his life than spend it with Angel.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews, letting me know if you liked this, would be nice, and let me know that this isn't a complete waste of my time.


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